


Not Quite Criminal

by AceOnStandbi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe -1918, Bisexual Lance, Fluffy, Gay Keith, M/M, One Shot, be gay do crime, internal gay conflict/panic, klance, pre-dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOnStandbi/pseuds/AceOnStandbi
Summary: This is a one shot in what I am hoping will be a longer work. Set in the summer of 1918, right before the second wave of the Spanish Influenza hits. There's a little bit of xenophobia but Lance and Keith have the final "word" and there does not end up being any violence. This is a fluffy scenario where Lance is blatantly reminded of his sexuality.Inspired by this art of Keith and Lance from Paprika Mooney: https://paprika-moony.tumblr.com/post/160928735029/day-five-partners-in-crime-for-theAnd loosely this post about two characters on the run hiding in a tight space by sunsgf: https://64.media.tumblr.com/2e7ed238339ba2c494ee537c8568ae7a/059ad70bc2201e40-0e/s1280x1920/acfdf0343b3f8f0f034cd2ab4e5fe721b769f0c1.png
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 1





	Not Quite Criminal

Saturday June 29th, 1918

It was supposed to be a normal June day. Things were getting back to normal after the flu scare in the first few months of the year. Lance was walking through the streets of New York for once, enjoying the slower pace. While he would have liked to just be going for a stroll, he was supposed to be getting groceries. The early morning market was close to empty, which meant Lance could feel a little less guilty about lingering. 

“Good morning Señora Belasco!” Lance waved, greeting the small Cuban woman in Spanish. She ran one of his favorite stalls in the market; a bakery stall full of pies, sweet rolls and Tocinillo del Cielo, which loosely translated to bacon from Heaven.

“Good morning Lance. How are your parents doing?” Señora Belasco asked, smiling at Lance. The conversation flowed easily between them, the quick Spanish exchange only one of the reasons Lance liked to stop by her stall. It was nice to be reminded that there were others like his family here. The delicious scents were another one, and he had to sternly remind himself that he was here for necessary groceries only. Sugary treats, no matter how tempting were not necessary.

“Doing as well as can be expected. Mama was worried for a while that her students would get ill, but they’ve all made it through.”

“Good, good. Tell your parents I say hello.”

“Of course.” He nodded and looked at the stall next to hers, which was full of prime vegetables. He looked them over carefully, and reached out to grab a head of lettuce when his hand was rudely smacked. He looked up in shock, not expecting this from someone who had set up their stall right next to another Cuban. He'd encountered hostile shopkeepers before, but it was generally easy to pick out the pre-emptive scowls and carefully distanced way they set up.

“These aren’t for you _foreigner_.” the woman behind the counter sneered. “Move along.” 

“Ma’am, I-”

“Are you stupid?” The words were perfectly enunciated, drawn out almost syllable by syllable. 

“No ma’am.” Lance tried to keep the smile on his face, but he was sure he could feel a twitch coming on. 

“Then leave.” 

“If I-”

“Police!” the woman screamed, and Lance raised his hands, stepping away from her stall. It felt like mere heartbeats had passed before the cops had him flanked, Señora Belasco frowning. And he’d almost been done with his shopping too, just three items left on the list. 

“What seems to be the problem here, ma’am?” The heavyset officer looked more accustomed to whacking any and all suspects over the head first, questions be damned. His hand already stroking the handle of his billy club in a familiar manner. His partner was lankier and more focused on the pies in Señora Belasco’s stall than any altercation he was supposed to be investigating. 

“Officers, this boy was attempting to steal some of my vegetables!” The woman was putting on quite a show, quivering behind her stall, darting fearful glances towards Lance as though he was going to overpower both the cops and begin hitting her over the head with a clump of broccoli. Despite you know, having only one hand free, the other awkwardly wrapped around the grocery bags he'd been carrying around. He lowered his hands slowly, readjusting his grip on his groceries. 

“That true?” The first officer asked, nudging Lance in the ribs. His partner had edged over just a step or two. Señora Belasco began to eat one of the "mistake" sweet rolls, that she often handed out to those she knew needed a little pick me up, or sold for half price. She made a clear face of enjoyment as she bit into the filling neatly. 

“I was just trying to ask about the price of some of her vegetables.” Lance could tell as soon as he began talking that the officer didn’t believe him. His eyes betrayed a mind already made up, and Lance's guilt as fixed as the color of the sky in it.

“You’re sure about that? Let’s take a look into some of those bags eh boy?” The officer scowled directly at him, the hand not on his club beginning to reach out towards Lance, who shied back as far as he could without moving.

“Officer, someone just stole my wallet.” 

Lance turned his head, wondering if the owner of the voice was in fact who he thought it was. And lo and behold, it was as he thought, Keith Kogane walking up behind him, and blatantly ignoring the obviously hostile air surrounding the five of them. 

“In a moment kid.” The officer reached for Lance’s bags, and he clutched them tightly to his chest. 

“I didn’t steal anything. I promise.” His promise was futile, the officer barely managing not to roll his eyes. 

“Likely story kid. Now let go of the bags.” The officer reached out again, and Lance backed up, almost bumping into the second officer who was definitely entranced by the sweet rolls. And then perhaps the most shocking thing Lance had ever seen happened. Keith, who was lingering near the pie stall, picked up one of Señora Belasco’s key lime pies, took a step forward, and hit the officer reaching for Lance solidly in the face. Lance dropped his groceries, mouth dropping open in a perfect ‘O’ along with almost everyone else’s. There was a moment of silence, as the pie tin slid down the officer’s face, leaving a thick trail of cream down the front of his uniform before landing with a splat on the ground. Murderous eyes blinked open, barely able to be seen behind a thick film of cream, and the officer let out a bellow to rival any charging bull. Keith grabbed Lance’s hand, ducking around the startled second officer back the way he had come. Lance followed automatically, knowing anywhere else on the planet was a good place to be. Except perhaps stranded at sea. But at least if he were stranded at sea, he wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of going to jail. It was a fifty fifty on being stranded then—it would depend on how likely the chance of rescue was. For now all he could do was hang on and trust Keith knew what he was doing.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Lance yelled as Keith dragged him down the street.

“I might have lost my temper. But less yelling, more running!” Keith yelled back, turning down a slightly more crowded street.

“Sorry!” It was aimed both at Keith and at the people he was bumping into. The street wasn’t as busy as it would have been last summer, but there were still a few annoyed glances thrown their way. The shrill whistling behind them, and shouts of phrases like “Stop!" and “Get back here!” meant the officers had recovered from their shock. Lance chanced a look behind him, seeing the officers a little over half a street behind them.

“They’re surprisingly fast!” Especially since it appeared the heavyset officer was leading the charge. 

“How far away are they?” Keith asked, nimbly dodging through a cluster of housewives.

“Half a street! Sorry!”

Lance and Keith turned another corner, only for Lance to almost lose his footing. Keith pulled him up, keeping him on his feet and increasing their pace. Lance did the best he could to keep up as Keith navigated the streets with some kind of plan in mind. The officers fell a couple of seconds further behind. When they were about a block and half in front of the officers, Keith guided the two of them into a narrow gap between two apartment buildings, halfway down the block. There was barely enough room for the two of them, the gap itself invisible until you were practically in line with it. Keith was pressed against the far wall, Lance with his back against the cool brick yet the two of them were still chest to heaving chest. Lance could feel Keith’s fiercely pumping heartbeat, hand curled tentatively against Keith’s chest. His own heart was pumping faster with the chase, and second-hand adrenaline from seeing a cop smacked with one of Señora Belasco’s pies. A mental image of the cop, cream dripping down his uniform appeared in Lance's head and he started cracking up between pants.

“Shhh.” Keith angled his head to look out of the gap, towards their pursuers. One hand was braced against the side of the building Lance was leaning against, the other resting casually on his hip. Their legs were tangled, a consequence of the close space. One of Keith’s knees had found it's way in between Lance’s. And suddenly it was hard to breathe for a new reason. So Lance did what he always did when he felt uncomfortable; run his mouth.

“His face has to be the funniest thing I've seen in awhile,” Lance wheezed, the mental picture of the cop too funny not to continue his laughter,despite the lack of breath in his lungs. Keith was unexpectedly fit for a guy with a glorified desk job. “Did you see his eyes? And he just stood there, gaping as the cream started to drip down his shirt, oh God. And that animalistic bellow! It was like you undid centuries worth of evolution, with one pie!”

He could feel Keith’s low chuckle vibrating up from his chest. The rumbling sent a shiver down Lance’s spine. There was a quicksilver smile, really just a slight turning up of the corners of Keith’s mouth, before a serious look replaced it again. _Keith should smile more often,_ a small voice in the back of his mind remarked. And then Keith was ducking his head back into the gap, spooking Lance into letting out a small yelp, and making him scrape his head against the wall.

“You almost just gave me a—”

“Lance, shhhh!” Keith pressed a cool finger against Lance’s lips, worried grey eyes meeting blue. Lance’s eyes flickered down to Keith’s lips, almost before he could stop them. He gazed away guiltily, trying to focus on the brick wall to the right of Keith. But his eyes kept flickering back to Keith’s lips. It wasn’t easy to distract himself, with Keith’s breath fanning his face. Keith’s hair was tickling his forehead, and once again Lance was very aware of how small a space this was, and how their chests were bumping with every mismatched breath. He could feel Keith’s belt buckle pressing into the strip of skin just above his hips, an acute reminder of just how close other things were. Lance tried very desperately not to think about that.

There was a clattering sound from the street, Lance instinctively flinching forward. Which put him even farther into Keith’s space, almost kissing his cheek. Keith had turned his face with the sound, tensing up to face whatever threat was coming at them. Lance forgot how to breathe for a second, between the fierce expression on Keith’s face and the way his left hand had come to rest on Lance’s lower back. Steadying him. Holding him close. Nope. Nope. They were not even friends. There was no way this was intentional. Keith had simply approached this problem fists first, as he usually did. Lance was just inconveniently placed. As per usual.

The minutes, or maybe only seconds, stretched out endlessly. Lance felt frozen, practically every inch of skin flush with Keith. Surely something that felt so right couldn’t be wrong? He could only imagine what a barrage of rebuttals his mother would come up with if she saw him, or God forbid his abuela. But with two hands clenching Keith’s vest, and his nose brushing Keith’s cheek, Lance was hard-pressed to remember all the reasons he shouldn’t be absolutely captivated by the smooth sweep of Keith’s ridiculously shiny black hair or the curve of his neck, which was now less than inches away.

“I think they’re gone,” Keith whispered, head still facing the street. “We’re probably in the clear now.”

“Thank God. If my parents had to get me out of jail...” Lance breathed a sigh of relief, letting the thought stay unfinished. It was then that he remembered he was still clutching onto Keith, and forced himself to ease his grip on Keith’s vest, and lean back against the wall. Keith’s vest, once immaculately pressed, was now clearly wrinkled. Lance began smoothing the fabric with both hands, trying futilely to relax the wrinkles. “Oh I didn’t mean to—”

He was cut off by Keith’s lips brushing his, for just a second. Soft, and warm, his brain had time to process, before they were gone. Lance blinked slowly, train of thought completely disrupted. Keith was frozen for the moment too, a very, very faint hint of red creeping from his cheeks down his neck.

“It’s fine Lance.” Keith said, eyes drifting downwards. His Adam’s apple bobbed, a motion Lance focused on as he was frantically searching for anywhere but Keith’s eyes or lips to stare at. “It’s just clothing.”

“Right,” Lance heard himself say. The voice that was coming out definitely didn’t sound like him. It was lower, and a little bit hoarse. He licked his lips, cautiously and hyperaware, because there really was no space between him and Keith. Their noses were practically touching, foreheads bumped together. Lance’s hands were awkwardly splayed on Keith’s chest, the hand Keith had been using to steady him still pressed into his lower back. It felt like a frigid handprint, the contrast between Lance’s now quite warm skin and Keith’s slightly cold hands exaggerated with Lance’s flustered state. Keith’s other hand was still up, fencing Lance in. Lance knew his face had to be flushed, but it was hard to tell when he felt so warm.

The kiss had to have been an accident. Keith was close enough that a simple tilt of Lance's head would connect their lips again. It took all of Lance’s wavering self control to keep his breathing even, and to keep the distance between them. Which was weird, because this was Keith. The guy who had yelled at, or been snippy with Lance almost everyday for the past few months. The guy who had scuffled with him more than once. The guy who had. in his own way been concerned when Lance had gotten sick. The guy who had just pied a police officer for him. The seconds stretched out, an internal battle waging in Lance’s head. He should not kiss Keith Kogane, no matter how much he wanted to. Lance wasn't even sure why he wanted to, it he was being honest with himself. It was probably just the lack of air getting to his brain right now, because he wasn't sure he'd actually taken a breath since Keith had kissed him. Kissing Keith would probably get him punched at best, and he didn’t even want to think about what might happen at worst. Lance was surprised he hadn’t been punched yet. It was probably only shock preventing Keith from moving, and the tight quarters they found themselves wedged into.

But it was clear neither of them knew how to proceed now. Lance took the first step, slowly and very carefully lowering his hands to his sides. He chanced a look at Keith’s face, locking eyes once again. He swallowed, any moisture in his throat gone. Eye contact had been a bad idea. There was no judgement in Keith’s eyes, just a strange vulnerability that Lance had never seen before. It brought out the delicacy of his half-Asian features in a way that Lance was not supposed to notice. And yet. Here he was, staring into Keith Kogane’s eyes. He was probably going to Hell—if someone hadn’t already sent him there.

“I should probably get back to the market. Señora Belasco is likely concerned. And she uh, knows my parents.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave this small liminal space. Keith was very rarely vulnerable. Once they returned to the real world, he wasn’t sure Keith would ever look at him like this again. But that was fine. Keith was just a stupid bookkeeper anyways. Lance didn’t even know why he was so bothered right now. But he filed the memory away in his head carefully. For completely innocent purposes of course. Know thy enemy and all that. And then the consequences of what had just happened hit Lance. 

"Oh my God, my groceries." Panic began clawing at Lance's throat. He'd been so stupid! Running from the law was one thing, since he hadn't gotten caught, but his family couldn't afford to replace the groceries he'd left behind in his haste to get away. Not that he'd had much choice in the matter, once Keith had shown up. But things had been a little tighter recently, between shortages causing price increases and the general rainy season and it’s illness. Lance closed his eyes and groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"We can go back for them Lance." Keith dropped his right hand, no longer blocking Lance's way out of the alley. 

"Will they even be there anymore? Or will someone else have grabbed them already?" Lance asked dejectedly. He should have just left before the woman went overboard. The satisfaction he'd felt remembering the officer's face turned sour, his stomach roiling at the thought of having to tell his parents about what had happened. They would be disappointed, but ultimately supportive as good parents were. Though his abuela was going to give him an earful about not being so stupid in the future. 

"We can at least go see. Maybe Señora Belasco was able to grab them?" Keith suggested, easing out of the gap they'd wedged themselves in. Lance sighed, shoulders drooping. 

"No harm in checking I guess." 

They walked back to the market, keeping an eye out for any officers who might be on the hunt for them. But the streets of New York were slowly getting more and more crowded, giving them cover from hostile eyes. Señora Belasco was selling off the last of her cold pies when Lance and Keith walked up.

"Lance!" She smiled, hands coming together in front of her face. "And who is this trouble-maker, who goes around taking my pies?" The stern façade lasted only a minute before a mischievous twinkle took its place. 

"Señora Belasco, this is Keith Kogane." Lance replied, before making sure the woman at the stall next to them was thoroughly distracted with a family she deemed more suitable clientele. Her loss. 

"My apologies for our rude meeting Señora. I can pay for the pie," Keith was already reaching for his wallet, but Señora Belasco tut-tutted and he kept his hand in pocket, one eyebrow raising curiously. 

"That was the most fantastic thing I've seen in years _niño_. Well worth one pie. The crust on that one wasn't right anyhow." She dismissed all of Keith's protests easily, the two bickering back and forth and bringing a small genuine smile to Lance's face. After about ten minutes they finally "agreed to disagree". Keith ended up buying one of Señora's sweet rolls, trying to overpay and having his change forcibly shoved at him. The two of them got along famously, a fact that was both endearing for some reason and also kind of scary. 

"But the real reason we came back was to see if Lance's groceries were still here." Keith remembered as the conversation had a slight lull.

"Oh of course," Señora Belasco laughed. "And here I thought you wanted to see this old woman." 

"That's just a perk." Lance winked.

Señora Belasco brought out slightly crinkled bags, placing them gently on the wooden surface of her market stall before swatting gently at Lance, her eyes crinkling. "Flatterer," she added in Spanish.

"You love me Señora. And thank you so much." Lance replied, keeping to English for Keith's benefit.

"We take care of out own, Lance. Remember that," Señora continued. still speaking in Spanish.

"Of course Señora," Lance laughed. "I'd better get the rest of my items and get home before my parents get worried. Could this be our secret?"

"I suppose so, but only because this one does have a good head on his shoulders." Señora Belasco conceded in English, before looking seriously at Keith and threatening in Spanish. "But if you ever get my boy in trouble again... you'll have a closed casket funeral."

"Señora!" Lance whined responding in Spanish, grabbing his poor groceries and trying not to blush. "You're embarrassing me!"

"It's fine. It's not like he understood me." She grinned, still speaking in Spanish.

It was true. Keith was trying to look as though he was following their conversation, but the blank incomprehension behind his politely interested eyes suggested it was all going over his head but he was too well bred to say anything. Lance huffed and said goodbye, shooting the woman who had started this whole mess a disdainful look. Señora Belasco ignored him, more focused on rearranging her wares. But it was past time to be going; Lance's early morning errand had tlasted well into mid-morning. His parents would start to worry soon. 

"Thanks for helping me out Keith. But I've gotta finish shopping soon or I'll get an earful from my mother." Lance said.

"Sure. See you soon no doubt. As long as Mr. Rossi is steadfastly ignoring all the hints my boss is trying to smack him in the face with." 

Lance laughed, and nodded. It was nice for him, having a consistent customer. But it had to get annoying for Miss Smith. "Poor guy wouldn't know rejection if it bit him on the nose." They shared a knowing look, and Lance continued on his way, walking fast to make up for lost time. But not fast enough to dodge the errant thoughts of that alley.


End file.
